Even Angels Fall
by BrokenDarkFire
Summary: Amora Winthrop seems kind and extremely normal, the exact opposite of a typical Slytherin. A loner by nature, Amora fights the darkness within herself and the destiny she must embrace to save the ones she loves. rated T for violence/language. Malfoy/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first fanfiction that I'm writing on , but I've been writing fanfiction for a while. Only in the past few months did I figure out what a Mary Sue was, and since my main protagonist is an OC, please let me know if she is Mary Sue-ish or if any characters from the HP series are OOC (I think I have a real problem with that, especially when it comes to writing Snape. Sometimes I have to rewrite a scene three or four times before I'm satisfied, and even then, I might go back and change it later to fit the character's personality better. Sad, huh?). Anyway, tips and constructive criticism are appreciated, so please review and I hope you like the story! **

Chapter 1

The first time anyone saw Amora Winthrop was in Potions class on a Monday morning. 12-year-old Harry was busy trying to keep his Juvenile Draught of Antigravity (which only made the consumer_ feel_ as though he or she were floating, to everyone's disappointment) from exploding in his face, Seamus, to his left, was not so lucky, his having blown up half an hour ago. Ron's, too, had suffered complications – his was shriveled and black at the bottom of his cauldron. "I'm done for," he said gloomily, his chin propped up in his hands as Snape began making his rounds to examine their progress.

"Er…" Harry wasn't sure how to respond. Should he lie and reassure his friend, or tell the truth? Before he could decide, the dungeon door came swinging open and Albus Dumbledore walked in, his robes trailing slightly, a twinkle in his eye. Every student who had been slacking off quickly busied themselves with something or the other.

"Severus," he called, "I was wondering if you could spare a moment?" To his credit, Snape tried valiantly to remove the scowl on his face, but it only became a painful grimace. "Unsuccessful potions, I take it?" Albus inquired as yet another student managed to botch their Draught, leaving green fog pouring out of the cauldron with green flames licking the edges. _"Aguamenti."_ He waved his wand and the fire was quenched. Neville looked at the headmaster gratefully, and he smiled kindly in response before turning his attention back to Snape and becoming serious.

Uh-oh. Snape sensed he would not like this next news.

"A very old Wizarding family has recently – well, last year – lost a family member, the patriarch of their family, in fact. His daughter is 12 years old and in need of schooling, as her father taught her before. She has already been privately Sorted in my office and as it so happens, she is in your house, Severus. A second year."

The urge to scowl was now almost insuppressible.

"No student has ever been allowed to attend without first receiving their letters in their first year," he said carefully. "I don't think this is fair to the other students. She may well have a head start on her courses, due to her home schooling—"

"Miss Winthrop did receive her letter," Dumbledore interrupted, his voice soft but with a firmness that warned Severus against asking too many questions. All at once, he was tired of always being kept in the dark about everything, and longed to rage, if only briefly, at Dumbledore. "Last year, shortly before her father's death, as a matter of fact. However, the family refused on the grounds that it was imperative she learn alone, without the distractions of a social life or other people surrounding her on a daily basis. Of course, I expressed my… disapproval of this chosen path in my next letter, but there was no reply. Somehow, I was not surprised." He sighed, and then brightened. "But the girl seems to have had other ideas, and she worked very hard to ensure she could come; at least, that is what her cousin has told me."

Snape was still feeling a bit mutinous, but he held his tongue, dreading the moment he had to meet the girl whose childhood sounded so much like his own – lonely. "It will be difficult for her to catch up to the other students. We are already into October."

"I think she'll manage," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "If not particularly nurturing, her father was a great teacher and she's quite knowledgeable on a number of subjects, or so her cousin boasted. I suppose only time will tell what we ought to make of this new student, hmm?"

Snape was still wondering about the "nurturing" comment. It took him a second before he registered that Dumbledore expected a reply. "Indeed."

"Good," the headmaster nodded. "I'll bring her in." He swept toward the door.

"Wait, not in the middle of class!" Snape protested, his unease with the new girl spilling over into his voice, causing several students to look at him strangely. But Dumbledore either failed or chose not to hear, as he gestured for someone outside to come in. Students immediately took notice.

She had a light complexion, with aquamarine blue eyes and chin-length messy black hair. It hung around her face, slightly frizzy but her bangs framed her bright eyes in a way that was actually sort of interesting; at least, that's what Snape assumed, judging from the way several boys were looking at her, and he couldn't see any other particularly unique qualities in her features. She gazed unflinchingly around the room and seemed to straighten up. However, Snape caught the questioning look she threw at him. He ignored this, so she glanced at Dumbledore. He sighed rather heavily and muttered to Snape, "She is _your_ student, so you should tell her where she is to sit."

Snape recovered himself, starting to get bored with the situation. All apprehension was vanishing now that he was seeing how supremely ordinary this girl looked and acted. Why should he feel such disquiet when clearly she was not out for attention, unlike others he knew of? "Over there, last row, next to Miss Parkinson." Pansy looked infuriated, as she'd been storing her rather large black dragon-skin purse on that chair. Scoffing angrily, she dumped her textbooks off the chair and slammed them on the floor, carefully balancing her purse on top. Seemingly unperturbed, the new girl made her way to the back, setting her black bookbag on the floor and settling into her seat without a word. As Dumbledore left and the door swung shut, he barked, "Well, do you plan on telling us your name or should we guess?"

Several Gryffindors protested loudly against this rude treatment of the new girl, including Weasley and Potter, but he scarcely noticed. The disquiet was back. Either she was very shy or she wasn't normal. Given the fact that this was Hogwarts, a perpetual magnet for trouble, he guessed it was the latter.

"No, it's alright," the girl addressed the angry Gryffindors. "My name is Amora Winthrop." Several Slytherins glanced at each other, some exchanging startled looks, others pleased.

"That old, infamous family! One of their daughters is in Slytherin?" "You know, the Winthrops are one of the oldest pureblood families." "Very antisocial, I heard." Whispers ran amok. Snape was annoyed. Was he the only one unfamiliar with her and her family? No, apparently not. The Gryffindors, with the exception, of Granger, Weasley, and Seamus Finnigan, looked confused, too. He wasn't comforted.

"Get a book, Miss Winthrop, third cabinet from the left. Second year book. We are on page 28, Juvenile Draught of Antigravity."

Amora obediently got up and retrieved a book. Snape completely ignored her for the rest of class, feeling uncomfortable with her silence, for reasons he didn't quite know. But when it came time to grade their Draughts at the end of class, he couldn't ignore her any longer.

"It's perfect!" Ron Weasley was right behind her as she presented a vial of her work to her professor. "How did she do that?!"

"It is very good," Snape admitted reluctantly, hating the fact that her work was worthy of a compliment on her first day. "You learned this from your father?"

"No, this I learned on my own. I've been working for the better part of four months to make sure I'm not behind." She shrugged. "What Father had to teach me had little to do with... this brand of education." There was a short silence as everyone but Snape tried to decipher those words; to be frank, he didn't care.

"5 points from Gryffindor, for skipping ahead and showing off," he said softly. There were cries of outrage from Gryffindors.

"But she didn't realize we hadn't reached this chapter yet! She didn't know! You can't hold it against her for studying hard!" Potter protested angrily.

"Hold on… I thought she was a Slytherin," Hermione Granger said slowly. "I mean, that's why you were sent directly to Professor Snape's classrooms, right?" She turned to Amora, who just shrugged.

"Hey, you are in Slytherin," Dean Thomas whistled. "Sorry, you just seem too nice for that house." There were cries of outrage from Slytherin, especially Malfoy. Amora's face had become frozen – impassive – her eyes fixed on the stone floor. Unnoticed, she walked slowly back to her seat. She didn't seem to notice or care that everyone was talking and arguing about her and the House in which she'd been Sorted.

Snape went back to ignoring her, grateful for the fact that his almost unexplainable slip-up was forgotten.

* * *

Harry was leaving the classroom when he heard the soft voice murmur, "_Reparo_." He turned and saw Amora fixing a long tear that had opened up her bookbag. "Probably Pansy's doing. I don't think she's very fond of me," she smiled a little sadly, her eyes on the floor as she gathered her fallen pens and sheets of paper. "You're Harry Potter," she added, tightening the cap on her jar of ink.

"Need help?" he asked, and she finally glanced up, looking surprised. He averted his eyes. "Sure," she murmured. "Thank you."

He noticed there was no parchment among her various papers. "Don't you have any parchment?"

She hesitated. "Well, no. Do I need it?"

"It's what we all use. I can't even remember the last time I saw… normal paper."

"Hmm. My family never… I mean… could I borrow some? From you, I mean. I didn't know we needed it."

"Oh… lemme get some out." A moment later, he handed over his spare parchment to her. She smiled gratefully. "Thank you. Again."

"The two of you – hurry up!" Snape's voice cut through the air like a whip. Amora flinched and stuffed everything into her bag. "He's so mean!" She muttered. "Bye, Harry!" Then she ran out of the classroom. As he left, Harry couldn't help but notice the annoyed look Snape threw at the direction Amora had just gone.

* * *

Amora clutched her repaired bookbag, feeling humiliated and furious. Some first day… some first class… Bitterly, she recalled the indifferent look upon her professor's face, her neighbor's contempt and spite. _That was real mature, Pansy. Breaking my bag. Very mature. _

She pushed her way through the crowds, scowling at a third year as he tried to shove her aside. "Aren't you courteous?" She muttered, not meaning to say it out loud, but it came out, anyway. She hated days like today – days of the full moon. The days were always hell and left her in an edgy countenance. She wanted nothing more than to return to her dormitory and rage against the world, but it was not for a Winthrop to run from a problem. A Winthrop confronted and fixed any and all problems they might face. Her thoughts turned to her family, especially her favorite cousin Xena.

_How strange… that my family – my _race_, actually – is destined for evil but that we should all be so good… well,_ almost _all of us_…

The rest of the day passed in an unhappy blur. When it was at last over, she rushed through the Slytherin common room and dumped her books on her bed, grabbed her Nimbus 2001 and hurtled out to the Quidditch field. To her dismay, she saw that there was already a team out there, clad in red and gold, practicing or perhaps playing a game. She dropped to the ground, half-hiding behind the corner of one of the stands, watching them. They were good, especially that Seeker whom she was sure was Harry. Imagine… Harry Potter at Hogwarts. Her family had never taken much of an interest in the business with Voldemort – it had always been none of their concern– but even news such as surviving a Killing Curse had reached their ears all those years ago.

"Oh!" A girl nearly tripped over Amora, a thick library book in her hands. Amora gasped and instinctively rolled away, but then she saw the girl, who was regaining her balance, and realized it was someone who meant no harm. Just as well, since she had next to no skill in defending herself, anyway.

"I'm sorry!" They both burst out at the same time. The other girl smiled; she had rather large front teeth. _Hmm… makes her look a little bunny, especially with that button nose_, Amora thought, feeling a little jealous. She thought it'd be grea to look like a bunny. "Oh… you're the new girl. Amora, right?"

"That's me," Amora nodded. "You're the Granger girl. You made a good potion."

"Yours was better," Granger replied, shifting her book into her bag. "It's Hermione. My name, that is."

"Oh, well, pleasure to meet you, Hermione." Amora smiled at her, though her heart wasn't in it. It was difficult to work up much of a smile or anything remotely positive on a full moon day. She hoped her bad mood didn't show in her face.

"Well, I guess I'd better be going. I promised Harry I'd stop by here and get his paper to him. He didn't do it very well and he needs it for Astronomy tonight."

"I see." The two girls stood awkwardly until Hermione gave a little wave and backed away. "Bye, Amora!"

"Bye, Hermione," Amora returned the wave, a few seconds too late. She, too, backed away. Then she turned, away from the Quidditch field, and ran straight to the Forbidden Forest, where she leapt into the sky on her broom as the sun began to set and the transformation began.

The broomstick clattered to the ground as she no longer had any need for it to stay in the sky. She screamed soundlessly, desperately trying to fight it – what if someone saw? – but it was no use.

She should've known it wouldn't be.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N : Well, for starters, I hope your holidays were happy! So, um... wow... here I am, a year later, with chapter 2. I feel absolutely ridiculous for amount of time it took me to get back to this. There's really no excuse, but since you deserve a bit of an explanation... basically, it all hit the fan in the second semester of school, and I just recently got my feet back under me. It was high time I revisited this story and began working on it again. I actually had this chapter already written out, but after rereading it last night, I realized how seriously out of character Snape was, so chapter 2 got a bit of editing (mostly near the end). Hopefully, you enjoy chapter 2 of Even Angels Fall. Reviews are appreciated. It may be a year later, but I'm still feeling new to fanfiction, so any critique is welcome.

-BDF

* * *

Chapter 2

Amora Winthrop slumped onto the bench for breakfast the next morning next to Ginny Weasley, apparently unaware that each House had their own table. Ginny raised an eyebrow but was too shy to tell her that Slytherins couldn't sit with Gryffindors. However, she did notice that the girl was pale and wan-looking. Fred and George had told her all about Amora Winthrop's arrival yesterday, having first heard the story first hand from Ron, Harry, and – everyone knew about the new girl by now. She had made Hogwarts history as far as gossip went. No student had ever arrived in the middle of the year. Or arrived even a day after the Sorting, for that matter. To come in her second year… was almost unthinkable. No one could stop speculating why she had chosen to attend Hogwarts now, and explanations ranged from the plausible (with a dead father, her family didn't have the time or patience to take over the girl's education) to the ridiculous (she was a reincarnated German princess who was on the run from a dark order of monks).

"Hey, Amora, are you okay?" She asked shyly. As the older girl turned to her, Ginny's eyes widened– Amora's eyes were rimmed with dark purple circles. "Er… wow. Just how late did you stay up last night?"

"Late enough," Amora yawned. "Do I know you? You look like someone in my Potions' class."

"I'm Ron's sister, Ginny. Fred, George, and Percy's, too, but they're not in your year or mine." She swirled her cereal around a bit. They sat in silence for a few moments, until Ginny, unable to bear the awkward silence anymore, asked, "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Not hungry." Amora lay her head down on the table and promptly fell asleep. Ginny glanced at her, not sure whether the polite thing to do was wake her up or let her rest. She didn't know. She'd never known anyone but Ron to fall asleep at breakfast before, and the wakeup call she usually treated him to was a good smack on the ear just as breakfast ended, but she couldn't do that to a stranger, even a stranger that Ron had classes with.

As breakfast ended, Ginny tapped Amora lightly on the shoulder. "Amora? Time for class." Amora opened her eyes sleepily.

"M'kay," she shoved her [untouched] plate away and stood up unsteadily. "Thanks, Ginny."

She shrugged and backed away slightly. "You might want to catch up that sleep later."

"Hmm… sure thing, Ginny." Amora smiled weakly. "I'll do that."

"See you later!" Ginny waved slightly as she walked away.

X X X

Draco Malfoy was furious with the fact that some air-headed, pixie of a girl had just waltzed in here and started ruining Slytherin's reputation. Falling asleep at breakfast! Speaking of which, what was she doing with the Gryffindors, with a Weasley, of all people? Filthy blood traitors. He wondered if she was a Muggle-lover, too. He knew she was pureblood. The Winthrops were something of an obscure urban legend in the Wizarding world. Only half the population had probably even heard of the family.

He himself didn't know much, only what he'd heard his parents say – that they were purebloods, wealthy, and extremely reclusive. When their patriarch, Amora's father, had died, Narcissa had seemed especially sad as she read the obituary in the _Daily Prophet_. "Seems a tragedy. He left his daughter all alone with those cold, cold people." He assumed she was referring to the relatives the obituary had referenced as the girl's new guardians.

He scowled at the Winthrop girl's back as she walked lightly to the Transfiguration class. Her hair was still spiky, but seemed even messier than the day before. Did the girl have no sense of pride? She was ruining the Slytherin name. He had half a mind to call her on it, but a squealing Pansy Parkinson launched herself at him – all the while, babbling about how she'd heard the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was _such _a pushover and he just _had _to sit next to her so they could talk – and Amora Winthrop was forgotten as he nodded and tried to appear interested in what Pansy was saying.

If he'd been paying closer attention, he might have noticed that Amora was walking with a slight limp and that there was a scar on her collarbone that hadn't been there yesterday.

X X X

"Miss Winthrop, if you cannot wake up, I suggest you take yourself down to Professor Snape and retrieve yourself a Revival Tonic!" Professor McGonagall lashed out after seeing Amora dozing for the third time.

The feline professor had already been irritated to find that the new Slytherin was to have Transfiguration with _her_ Gryffindors, the only Slytherin in the whole class. Dumbledore had not explained why, he had only told her that the Gryffindors were kinder to Miss Winthrop than those in her own house. When McGonagall had thrown up her hands and complained no other student had ever had the rules bent for them before, he had raised an eyebrow and reminded her of the Lupin boy's "condition" years before. Needless to say, after that, she'd had no retort and had decided that whatever the Slytherin's "condition" was that necessitated a schedule change, she didn't want to know.

"Hmm…? Oh, sorry, Professor." Amora jerked upright. She dug her nails into her palms, cutting into her skin. When she'd been home-schooled, she had slept in until 9:30 every morning. She'd eat breakfast with her father and they'd discuss current political events, the latest news from Elder Omar on the High Council, and complicated scientific procedures. Then he'd take her to study languages and history in the library, all the while joking and making it fun. After her lessons, it was lunch outside, either in the courtyard or the balcony. In the afternoons, he allowed her some free time before teaching her spells, charms, and potions, and later before dinner, they'd spar in the training room. It wasn't anything like Hogwarts, which, though seemed nice in its own way, had none of the friendly atmosphere the Winthrop family home did.

Amora sighed. "May I go? To get a potion, I mean?"

Everyone raised their eyebrows. No one ever actually took McGonagall up on such offers, especially where they involved Snape. The students suddenly pitied her; she had no idea what a git her Head of House was and here she was, wandering to him for help like a little lamb awaiting the slaughter.

"I'm sure she could just as easily get some Mandrake pills from Madame Pomfrey to stay awake!" Harry interjected quickly, remembering from the Herbology textbook that Mandrake essence, in light doses, was effective in staying awake. McGonagall raised her eyebrows; the Gryffindors really did seem to look out for this Slytherin.

"No, it's okay, Harry," Amora yawned. "He's my Head of House, anyway. Might as well make himself useful to the new student he hasn't even bothered to speak to." At least the Slytherin didn't have Transfiguration with them; they'd be laughing at Amora's idea of Snape helping her stay awake. He'd probably give her detention instead.

The Gryffindors watched helplessly as Amora hurried out the door to find her Head of House.

"Professor?" Amora asked as she walked into the dungeons. "Professor Snape, could you…? Oh." The classroom was empty. She shivered and dropped into a desk. That was so embarrassing. Why did McGonagall have to draw so much attention to her?

_Father would've been furious. Of course, he also would have told Dumbledore what I am, though I'm sure he suspects – why else would he allow me avoid Transfiguration with the Slytherins? But no, Aunt Mary and Uncle Westford think it's best if it remains a secret_. She sighed. _For all they try, they're not as good as restraining their nature as Father was. Secretive, dark natures. How do I know I'm any better? How do I knew that when I turn 13, my transformation won't kill me, won't make me lose my mind, won't turn me into a despicable creature like so many do?_

She shivered again. Why was it so cold down here? She heard a soft noise to her right and spun quickly off her seat, readying herself into a defensive position, surprised when she saw no one was there. Good thing, too. It would be many more years before she mastered the fighting styles her father had taught her.

There it was again. A voice. Curious now and eager to get that Revival Tonic (or even learn to brew it herself), she walked quickly to a door she hadn't noticed before. It never occurred to her to knock. She jerked the door open after a bit of struggling – by the gods, it was _heavy_ – and hurried in. It was an office and Snape stood in the middle, holding an old leather-bound book. However, there was no more room for observation as Professor Snape hurled the book to the ground and there was an explosion. Something struck her across the forehead and she cried out as smoke suddenly engulfed the room. Dark red smoke.

She screamed and she heard a voice swear. The door was somewhere behind her. Backing up, she drew her wand. "_Expedio_!" The smoke cleared briefly, showing that her professor, too, was looking for something… or someone, no doubt the intruder. She quickly whispered, "_Optenebro_" and the smoke once again swirled to hide her. It found its way into her lungs, constricting her airway. The floor was undoubtedly cold, but she still dropped her hands and knees. Where was the door? No need for a Revival Tonic now – she was definitely awake. Her searching hand hit hard wood, and it was with relief that she pushed the door open and fell into the dungeon classroom.

Coughing, she scrambled back up to her feet and started to run to the door, but a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Automatically, she twisted her arm away, spun around, and pointed her wand at her assailant. Professor Snape stood behind her, his skin stained faintly pink, and pointing a wand at her just as she pointed hers at him.

"Have you never learned to knock, Miss Winthrop?" He snarled. "Of all the reckless, thoughtless things I've seen – you are a fool to rival Potter!"

"Haven't you ever learned that you shouldn't play with fire?" She retorted, glad that her voice remained steady. "I know what that was, that was Dark Magic! That book was cursed! You call me a fool, but I'm only twelve years old and I know that throwing a cursed book to the ground is an _utterly stupid _idea. You're old. You should know better!"

"I was curious about the effects of the explosion with essence of sage and lavender sprinkled on the pages to counteract the curse. It's not unusual. After all, I am a professor, a little experimenting is to be expected," he snapped, and was about to add more, but Amora interrupted with, "_That_ was not an experiment! That was a death wish!"

He turned on his heel and threw open the office door. Now that the smoke had more or less cleared, two tables, both littered with beakers and chemical vials, were revealed. "That is not just an office, that's a laboratory! Walking in unannounced, when at any time, I might be dealing with explosive substances – that's a death wish, Miss Winthrop!" He finally seemed to rein in his temper and calmly informed her that she would be serving detention with Mr. Filch on Friday night.

She seethed. Suddenly, her eyesight in her right eye went red. After blinking a few times, it began to clear up, but she was frightened. She raised a hand to her eye and realized that blood was dripping from somewhere on her forehead. "Ugh. Gross." She glared at the potions professor, who was studiously ignoring her and was focusing on cleaning up his office.

"You got a mirror?" She called, loathe to ask him for any favors, but she had no idea where the hospital wing was. He gestured vaguely to one wall, where a tiny mirror hung. _I'll bet I can patch this up easily. Just some gauze, something to ward off infection_- "Oh, that's nasty," she muttered as she caught sight of the bleeding gash that began at her temple and continued into her hairline. "Okay, what's that spell – the one for healing. There are so many... cuts… gashes. Scrapes… okay, I swear I know this. Epica, epici, um… it begins with an "E". Healing, healing, healing… Xena used it so many times because Adria's so clumsy… why can't I-"

"Silence!" Professor Snape roared, whirling around. Amora jumped and stared, wide-eyed. He sighed, as though she were giving him a headache, which she probably was. The thought made her feel more than a little pleased. She allowed herself a tight smile.

Avoiding her eyes, he waved his wand once and went, "_Episkey_."

There was a slight sting and then the pain disappeared. Turning to examine her reflection, she was relieved to see the cut was gone. She smiled and then pointed her wand at the blood, cleaning away the blood with a quick "_Tergeo_".

"Was there a reason you came barging in so recklessly?" Snape drawled. Amora froze, then swore violently.

"I have to get back to class!" She turned to run out the door, but just before leaving, she called out, "Thank you!" Classes were ending and the fourth-year Hufflepuffs were trickling in for Potions class. Snape grabbed the handle to his office door and started to push it closed before he noticed a scrap of paper on the floor. Paper, not parchment. He remembered what Amora had said to Potter before about parchment yesterday. She had never used parchment before.

He glanced at it quickly. A letter from her father. Picking it up and hiding in a desk drawer, he vowed to read its contents later.

It was least he could do to make up for Amora's destruction of his experiment.

* * *

**"Expedio" is the Latin verb for "clear", in this case, clearing the smoke**

**"Optenebro" is the Latin verb form of "obscure", which brings the smoke back to hide Amora.**


End file.
